“What are you doing? Priya, what are you doing?”
A moment later Priya handed the phone back to Cass. “There. You’re welcome.”
Cass’s mouth hung open as she glanced between Priya and her phone’s screen, where Miguel was already typing a response, the ghost dots wiggling. Her heart raced as she quickly scanned Priya’s text, which was right underneath Miguel’s original message: Thinking about you. Hope you’re having a good day.
Thinking about you, too, Priya had texted on Cass’s behalf. Then: Would love to see you.
Finally, Miguel’s response.
Great minds . . . Are you free Sunday? I have an idea.
“Now you can go blow off some steam. Have fun. Forget about the show and stupid Austin for a day. Enjoy Miguel. Because if you don’t, someone else might.” Priya pointed at herself. “Just saying.”
Cass swallowed hard, her stomach in knots at the idea of seeing Miguel again. This was starting to feel more serious . . . and she had no plan.
“Cass, it’s okay to not have everything figured out,” Priya said, as if reading her mind. “And if the opportunity comes up to tell him what’s really going on, then you can take it. Or not. Your choice.”
She was desperate to believe Priya’s words. Then, with slightly shaking fingers and the courage that comes from too many cocktails, she replied to Miguel.
12
Charlie
Saturday: 7 Days Until Christmas . . .
Starlight Peak
“Good morning, sunshine!” Walter deadpanned, sweeping fluffy snowflakes off the shoulder of his parka before hanging it up near the front of the bakery. “Hey, what’s with you? Do I need to put on another pot of coffee?”
Charlie was hunched over the countertop in the middle of the bakery’s workroom, staring morosely into her empty coffee cup. “Sure,” she said distractedly. “More coffee would be good.”
Except, it wouldn’t. Nothing was going to make her feel better—certainly not another cup of coffee—even if Walter did make the best coffee, often adding a pinch of cinnamon to the grounds and a dash of vanilla to the pot once it had brewed, something Charlie had decided she was going to start doing once she returned to L.A. Surely, adding these little touches to her former life would make her less homesick when she was gone. Perhaps it would be that simple—when the time came, of course.
She had caved the night before and told Cass that yes, a few more days would be fine. It had been too tempting to resist—she was heartsick over Jake and wanted just a few more days to see if she could make it right. But now she was filled with regret. She had failed to send her sister the recipe file, putting her career at risk. Now, she wasn’t going back and taking her life over the way she should, electing instead to stay home. No man was worth risking her career—which was why Charlie was so perplexed. Because it wasn’t just Jake. She’d been standing at the countertop contemplating the true reasons for her reluctance to step back into her life for so long her feet ached. From a distance, she was starting to realize her picture-perfect life in L.A. was anything but.
And also that, yes, she had developed some very strong feelings for a man she wasn’t being honest with.
Ding. She glanced at the incoming text and smiled despite her morose mood when she saw it was from her dad. Apparently, Cass had tried to teach Thomas how to take selfies—but throughout the week, each attempt had been funnier than the last. The most recent one he had sent only included the top of his and Helen’s heads, but this one was worse: one ear and the deck of the ship. Charlie stared down at the screen, struck by how much she missed her parents—and how much, the night before, she had wanted to be told by Cass that it was okay to stay where she was. Things were complicated in Starlight Peak—but it was home. Over the past year, she had forgotten that.
Walter had busied himself with the coffeepot but now came to stand beside her. “So, what’s going on?”
Charlie put her phone away. “I had trouble sleeping last night,” she said, which was not a lie. After her phone call with Cass she had tossed and turned all night, finally coming down to the bakery hours earlier than usual—which meant that even with all her daydreaming about Jake, she had completed all her usual morning tasks and almost everything was ready for Walter to start baking. “Worried about the Starlight loaves, I guess.”
“We’re getting there,” Walter said. “Don’t worry. And we still have time. Woodburn’s will come through.” Then he paused and tilted his head. “You sure it’s just the bread that’s got you so concerned, though? Because, well, the rumor mill in town is churning, and I don’t think I need to tell you who the hot topic is.”